warm hearts on winter nights
by cheadsearc
Summary: "well it's settled then. this time, we're going to celebrate christmas properly, as it should be." :: three years of yuletide at malfoy manor and how hermione steps in and changes it :: dramione :: for the twelve days of christmas challenge, tgs forum, prompt #2


_**written for the golden snitch forum**_

 _ **challenge:** 12 days of Christmas_

 _ **prompt:** 2\. Two turtle doves: Write about your OTP during Christmastime._

 ** _points:_** _5_

 ** _characters:_** _draco malfoy, hermione granger_

 ** _pairing:_** _draco/hermione_

 ** _word count:_** _1976_

* * *

 **warm hearts on winter nights**

 _(word count: 1976)_

* * *

To be honest, Christmas at Malfoy Manor only served to depress Hermione's mood.

It was always the same routine. Draco would try to be cheerful – as cheerful as he could be (and _that_ was borderline solemn, in Hermione's opinion) and Narcissa would host a grand Christmas supper for the Malfoys' closest friends (the circle had steadily diminished to five lucky pure-bloods who had escaped prosecution after the war) but an inexplicable gloom permeated the air of the grand Manor, as if the haunting ghosts of its past still had their claws dug into its residents and guests.

The first time Draco invited her along to Christmas, Hermione had understood the low spirits that clung to the Malfoys. After all, Lucius Malfoy had been stripped of half his wealth and sentenced to five years in prison, just a few months ago.

If she were honest, Hermione would admit that she had been afraid of how Narcissa would react to her son's choice of a girlfriend, but Narcissa had been polite and cordial, even warm.

But instead of feeling relaxed that Narcissa hadn't thrown her out of the house immediately, Hermione had tensed even further when she saw the defeated look on the woman's face.

Supper had been grave and silent. Hermione had sipped on her soup, nibbled on her food and bit into dessert, all without speaking a single word to the purebloods surrounding her.

Two years ago, she would have said that no one was speaking to her out of disdain and disgust. But now, she did not comment – if there was one community that had suffered the most through the ordeal, it was the purebloods.

There was also the fear in her heart at seeing the familiar scenes – where she'd been tortured, where she'd screamed out for mercy as Bellatrix cackled in glee. There was no sign of blood or pain in the pristine hallways anymore, but flashes of that terrible night swept past Hermione's vision, leaving her pale with fear, and Draco looking apologetic and apprehensive at every turn.

And so, her first Christmas with her boyfriend had passed in monotony, silence and hauntings of their pasts. Hermione had just pecked Draco on the cheek, smiled with some disappointment and Apparated away from the Manor, but in her heart, she hoped that the Malfoys (and Hermione herself) would heal from their wounds completely.

* * *

Another year passed and December had Hermione slowly trudging through the piles of snow towards the intimidating, yet graceful silhouette of the Manor. The trepidation and fear was almost gone. She had decided to let the bygones be bygones and that decision had lifted her out of her trauma.

Besides, she hated making Draco feel guilty. He tried to hide it, but she _knew_ he blamed himself for what happened to them that night.

It was with hope and happiness that Hermione stepped into the Manor, only to be surprised – quite unpleasantly, that the state of things in the Manor had not improved since last Christmas. Merlin, would the Malfoys be moping about their mistakes till they _died_? Hermione would not allow that.

She talked cheerfully, to Draco and Blaise, who were more receptive to the mindless chit-chat than she thought they would be. She even tried to include the elder witches around the table, but was met with polite answers that discouraged any more talk. The mild banter between the three of them died quickly after that. This time, Hermione left the Malfoy Manor quite annoyed and frustrated.

* * *

The third Christmas with Draco was the one when she decided to do something.

"Draco," she started, when they were snuggled up on the couch in her apartment, watching a Muggle movie - Draco was fascinated with them. It took a few more times to grab his attention, because his eyes were fixed to the screen.

"Hmm?" he hummed. He really _was_ enamoured by _Jurassic Park,_ Hermione noted with amusement.

"I think we should do something different for Christmas."

"What?" _Aha. That got him._ "Why?"

"Well, did you _notice_ how gloomy Christmas is in your home?" Hermione demanded, undaunted by his challenging eyes. "It's as if we're mourningin a death, it's certainly not _celebrating._ "

"Then what do you suggest we do, Granger?" His haughty pure-blood façade was back. Hermione almost chuckled at his predictability.

"You know, back when Mum and Dad… well, _remembered_ me, we used to have wonderful Christmas traditions. We'd drag a Christmas tree home, the biggest one we could find in the market, put it up in the living room and then we'd fight over our favourite decorations – we had so many that we couldn't possibly put up everything. I'd always insist that I had to put the star on the top of the tree. So my dad would hoist me up and I'd reach for the top with the golden star. I'd feel so proud after we were done." Hermione smiled, a little sadly, as she remembered her estranged parents. Despite having reversed the Memory Charms on them, Hermione's parents were rather suspicious of magic in general. She was cordial with them, but had lost the closeness she'd shared with them in the past.

Draco's arrogant expression softened. He opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione was already brushing off her pensive mood and saying, "What did _you_ do for Christmas?"

"We? Well, it's mostly similar to what we do _now–"_

" – So you never had any traditions or something of that sort?" Hermione raised her eyebrow sceptically.

Draco was quiet for a moment. Hermione watched him, as his expression closed up for a moment, before he murmured. "Stockings. We always had stockings."

Hermione smiled, a little triumphantly. He was beginning to give in. She wisely kept quiet, because she knew from experience, that if she said something now, he would revert back to his smirks and snarky remarks.

"Mother never let the elves do it. She insisted on doing them by hand, stuffing them with sweets and little gifts – Muggle books that were kept out of my Dad's sight, magical contraptions that had me delighted to no end… Things like that. And then, in the evenings, she'd sit down at the piano and play renditions of Christmas Carols. We'd be happy – even Father, who was rather disdainful of Christmas in general, would sit with us in the parlour as Mother played. She would play beautifully." Draco reminisced with a smile.

The couple were silent for a while, watching the colours flit past the television screen rapidly. Hermione spoke first. "Well, it's settled then."

Draco looked at her quizzically, not quite understanding her statement. "This time, Malfoy, we're going to celebrate Christmas _properly,_ as it should be celebrated." Draco scowled and opened his mouth. "And before you start with your ' _I'm perfectly fine without Christmas Celebrations'_ lecture, know that I _will_ do what I want to, and I _will_ win the argument you're going to start now."

Draco just pursed his lips and stared at the screen, fighting the twitch of a smile tugging at his lips.

* * *

Hermione bounced on the balls of her feet, surveying the room before her. She was finally done with decorating the room. The Malfoys' sitting room was elegant before, but now, it looked charming.

Hermione checked her watch for the time before she skipped eagerly to the door to let her boyfriend in.

"Done so soon?" Draco quipped sarcastically, as he surveyed the room. His voice trailed off into nothingness as his grey eyes darted across the place.

Hermione bit her lip in an uncharacteristic display of nervousness. "So? Does it meet your expectations?" She scanned the room for any imperfections: the Christmas tree was perfectly in place, with softly glowing fairy lights, baubles and other ornaments – straight out of Hermione's own attic. Even the star adorning the tree was hers, the very same one that she used to hang with her dad. The stockings hung proudly by the warm fire, there were only a few, but stuffed with gifts that she was sure Draco would appreciate. The pianoforte was all set up, the signs of disuse completely gone with a simple _Tergeo_ from her wand. The new sheet music from London was clutched in her hands, waiting to be handed over to Mrs. Malfoy. It looked perfect, in Hermione's opinion.

Right?

"Draco?" She started apprehensively. Suddenly, Draco pulled her into a completely unexpected hug. Hermione blushed – they'd never been ones for too much affection and any form of sudden contact always made her flustered. "So you like it, then?" Her voice was muffled against his silky blazer.

"Like it? I _love_ it," he laughed, a clear, joyful sound that Hermione doesn't hear often enough. "I – That's to say – _Thank you._ " He whispered the last part and Hermione's heart melted.

She could not imagine that this is the same boy who demeaned her and regarded her with disdain all those years ago. He had changed a lot, but so had she. Society was shocked by their relationship – hell, even _Harry_ had thought she was drunk when she told him that she was dating Draco Malfoy, and Harry had been the most accepting of the Slytherins from amongst their circle.

 _But, I wouldn't have it any other way_ , Hermione thought giddily, as Draco pulled her into a lingering kiss. She heard someone clearing their throat behind them, and Hermione hastily pulled away, colour heightened with mortification.

Narcissa Malfoy stood at the doorway, regarding them with twinkling eyes. "The decorations are absolutely wonderful, Hermione." She smiled graciously and Hermione beamed.

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," she said. Extricating herself from Draco's grip, she made her way to the older woman.

"Er, this is for you," she said, presenting Narcissa with the (slightly crumpled) sheet music. "Draco told me that you loved to play the piano… so I took it upon myself to buy some music. Er, I hope you don't mind…" Hermione trailed off. Narcissa gave her a wistful smile and said, "Thank you, my dear." Narcissa Malfoy was a woman of few words, but what she said was heartfelt.

The _third_ Christmas Hermione spent with her boyfriend was everything she wanted it to be – joyful, filled with laughter and brimming with hope. Narcissa and Draco looked genuinely happy, with beautiful smiles. The supper had an atmosphere of soft joy and good humour. Narcissa spent half the evening at the piano, indulging everyone when they asked for encores time and again. Draco was at his most relaxed, witty, likeable self. Hermione was floating in bliss – this was the best Christmas she ever had since the Percy Weasley fiasco in the Burrow.

When all the guests left – with hugs and smiles (even for _her,_ Hermione discovered with surprise and pleasure), and Narcissa bid them a good night, with a knowing smile, Hermione turned to Draco.

"I have something for you," said Hermione, eyes dancing with excitement. She rummaged in her bag and brought out the last stocking – embellished in green and silver. Handing it to Draco, she watched as he brought out the gift inside.

Two little porcelain birds fell into his hand, perfectly sculpted and identical. "Turtledoves," Hermione said softly, as he examined them. "One for me and one for you. You give them to the person you love, as a promise."

Draco's grey eyes met hers. "What's the promise?"

Hermione smiled softly. "To love them forever."

He handed one to Hermione and closed his hand over his own. Draco grinned at her, and Hermione knew that she could make it through anything, if she had his love.

The third time Hermione left the Manor after Christmas, it was with satisfaction and a cheerful, albeit tired smile. She kissed Draco, offered him a wave and disappeared from the spot, knowing that _finally,_ everything would turn out alright in her world.

 _Merry Christmas, indeed._

* * *

 ** _ahh,_ the prompt said write about your otp, but i don't exactly _have_ an otp - it keeps changing so often. but i love dramione so here it is :)**


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